Now he was furious.
A wave of anger surged from his chest, burning through every nerve, though he couldn't even explain what exactly he was angry about.
He had deliberately answered Rosalie's call right in front of Celia, trying to test her—trying to see whether she truly didn't care if he was with another woman.
Sure enough, she hadn't cared.At least, not on the surface.
And that infuriated him.
He was angry that she didn't care about him.Angry that she could so easily push him toward another woman, as if he meant nothing more to her.
Nathaniel rolled down the window, letting the cool night air sting his face in a vain attempt to clear his mind. He felt like he was losing control.
He was the one who had set the rules for this game—no emotions, just fun. Yet the more she seemed to adapt to those rules, the more he found himself…caring.
Leaning back against the seat, fragments of her gentleness filled his thoughts—the way she had looked at him, the warmth of her voice, the passion of last night. His jaw clenched.
With a sharp turn of the key, the engine roared to life. He drove forward slowly, his eyes catching the slender figure walking along the roadside. Celia.
She hadn't taken a taxi. Instead, she was heading toward the Fu Group headquarters just a few blocks away.
She never once looked back, her small figure steady under the streetlights.
Nathaniel trailed her at a crawl, his car creeping behind her like a shadow.
Ten minutes later, Celia disappeared into the lobby of Fu Group. Nathaniel parked downstairs, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it in silence. The glow of the flame lit his brooding face before vanishing into the night.
Upstairs, Celia slipped into the lounge attached to the CEO's office. After a hot shower, she lay down on the bed. Perhaps because she had stayed up too late last night, or because of the emotions that had wrung her out today, exhaustion claimed her quickly.
She drifted into sleep.
She didn't know how much time had passed before a heavy weight pressed down on her, stealing the air from her lungs. Warm lips caught hers in a biting kiss, deliberately rough as if to drag her back into wakefulness.
Her lashes fluttered open. Nathaniel was above her, bracing himself with strong arms, his mouth still pressed against hers.
"Why are you back so soon?" Her small hand pressed against his firm chest, trying to push him away just a little. Her voice was husky with sleep, soft and fragile like a newly hatched bird. Strands of her dark hair spread across the pillow, the faint scent of her favorite lychee shampoo drifting upward.
Nathaniel's lips curved into a smile as he looked down at her. "Didn't you predict I wouldn't last with another woman? That I'd definitely come back for you?"
Her watery eyes shone, hazy and tender. It was no wonder he found her so irresistible—she was innocence and temptation all at once.
"I can't predict for sure," she murmured. "Other women have their charms too."
His laugh was low as he bent to claim her lips again. "I only want you. Is that enough?"
Celia decided not to overthink it. Her arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer, answering his kiss.
But just as the moment deepened, a shrill ringtone cut through the quiet.
Nathaniel's phone.
She pushed lightly at his chest. "Your phone."
"It's in my pocket," he said, eyes glinting as if amused. "Help me take it out and see who it is."
Her cheeks warmed. The phone was indeed in his trouser pocket. She remembered the night in the private room when he'd coaxed her into slipping her hand inside his pocket to retrieve his key, and how she had flatly refused then.
But now, under the weight of his gaze, she bit her lip and slid her hand inside.
"Mr. Fu~" she whispered, her palm-sized face tilted up to him, voice deliberately sweet, with a feigned innocence that was almost playful. "Where is it? Your pocket's so deep, I can't find anything…"
Nathaniel's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, knowing she was teasing him on purpose.
That night in the private room, she had acted righteous and stubborn, refusing to indulge him.Now in his bed, she knew exactly how to push his buttons—and she was doing it with deliberate mischief.
The little fox was showing her tail.